


Matching Pair

by DeskGirl



Series: Pair of Aces [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Internal Conflict, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), POV Jesse McCree, Public Display of Affection, Rodeo Competitions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirl
Summary: A special date to the rodeo forces McCree to acknowledge a couple of personal shortcomings. Can he find the courage to overcome them?A continuation ofSomething a Little Sweeter.





	Matching Pair

**Author's Note:**

> A few quick notes before getting into it:  
> This story comes after _Something a Little Sweeter_. It can be read without the prior story, but I highly recommend reading them in order. 
> 
> The [International Gay Rodeo Association](https://www.igra.com/) is real (and may be worth looking into if you live near a chapter).  
> The [Zia Regional Rodeo](http://nmgra.org/rodeo/) is real, too.  
> And finally, the [Goat Dressing](http://nmgra.org/rodeo/EventDescriptions.htm) event is real.  
> (Admittedly, I could have made up a fake rodeo competition, but I personally love the thought that in the face of something as earthshaking as the Omnic Crisis, organizations like the IGRA can and would remain strong and become pillars of strength for their communities. Those people are tough enough to make it through anything, and Overwatch is all about hope.)

Jesse drew Hanzo along by the hand as he navigated the bustling crowd. Most of the people pouring out of the rodeo arena were headed to the beer tent where lunch and drinks were being served now. Jesse could hear the beginnings of live music drifting from distant speakers. He’d be sure to take Hanzo there in a bit to treat him to some classic fair foods, but for now he had a different goal in mind as he led Hanzo away towards the souvenir stands.

“Where are you taking me?” Hanzo asked. Jesse could hear amusement layered under the exasperated tone.

“Gettin’ you something to remember our date by.”

“As if I would forget this.”

Jesse had planned the trip special—got permission from Winston and access to one of Overwatch’s smaller aircrafts since no one was on a mission at the moment. It’d been a risk taking Hanzo on a date in the States what with the bounty on Jesse’s head, but well worth it to introduce him to New Mexico’s Zia Regional Rodeo, an annual event run by the local chapter of the International Gay Rodeo Association.

Jesse wasn’t too worried about anyone calling in a tip on him here. If anything, he was more likely to get approving looks than distrustful glances. He was a criminal by law, but it seemed the people of New Mexico had grown fond of their hometown vigilante, especially now that rumors were spreading of Overwatch’s recent work. Besides, most folks attending a gay event weren’t eager to invite the cops over. If anyone recognized the infamous Jesse McCree walking hand in hand with his apparent boyfriend at their rodeo, they weren’t likely to do much about it. At least, Jesse assumed so considering he hadn’t heard sirens yet.

Jesse spotted the booth full of hats, jackets, lanyards, and other knick-knacks. There was a bit of a line, so he saw no point in rushing. He slowed down so Hanzo could walk beside him.

“You got a favorite event from the competition?”

Hanzo looked considering. “I appreciated the skill of the horse riders. What was the race with the poles again? It had a name.”

“Pole bending.”

“That was it. I believe that one is my favorite. Though I have to admit, I was impressed with the skill needed to perform all of the events. I can see how they each serve a practical purpose…except for the goat.”

Jesse laughed, loud and sharp. “The goat dressing?”

“I assume so,” Hanzo said. “I do not recall another event with a goat. What is the point of two men wrestling livestock into a pair of underwear?”

Jesse tried not to smile too hard so Hanzo wouldn’t think he was laughing at him, but it was difficult. “There is none. It’s just for kicks.”

“Is that something they do at every rodeo?”

“Nah, just the fun ones.”

Jesse worked his way through the knot of people to the souvenir booth and made room for Hanzo to scoot in. He waved a hand towards the display wall of shirts and hoodies. “Go ahead an’ pick out a sweat jacket.”

“What if I want something else?” Hanzo asked with a quirked brow.

“Then I’ll get both. Go on now,” Jesse said, perhaps a little too insistently.

Hanzo held his gaze for a long moment. The narrowing of his eyes and the faint twist of his mouth said he was looking for tells; Jesse had learned to recognize that face from playing cards with him. Jesse lifted his brows a little and kept his face blank. Hanzo let out a huff and turned to examine the jacket designs.

“That one,” Hanzo finally decided, pointing. It was a simple, gray jacket with the Zia Rodeo’s emblem on its back: a bronco rider in the middle of a Zia sun symbol like the one featured on the New Mexico flag.

“Good choice. Large?”

“Medium. I prefer a closer fit.”

“Okay, but just so you know, I wear a large.”

“I thought the jacket was for me.”

“It is,” Jesse said. His poker face cracked as a smile crept across his face. “But seein’ as how you keep stealing my sweat jacket, I figure you’ll be more comfortable in a large.”

Hanzo turned on his heel to face Jesse. “Is that what this is about? If you wish for me to stop, you need only say so.”

Jesse held up his hands placatingly. “You know I’m only ribbing you. I just thought since you like mine so much, you should have one of your own. You can keep on stealing mine. I don’t mind.”

Hanzo’s expression softened, then he glanced away. He was silent for a moment, not quite long enough to make Jesse worry, but enough to have his full attention.

“I apologize,” Hanzo said quietly. He glanced up at Jesse, then around at the people surrounding them.

Either the other attendees didn’t notice the conversation happening, or they were polite enough to pretend they didn’t. Still, Jesse took Hanzo by the shoulder and guided him off to the side where they could talk more privately. This was supposed to be a fun time; he hadn’t meant to put Hanzo on edge.

“It’s all r—”

“It is just—”

Jesse snapped his mouth shut and gestured at Hanzo to keep going.

Hanzo let out a heavy breath. “It is just that I worry sometimes,” he admitted.

“Worry about what?” Jesse asked.

“About overstepping boundaries.” Hanzo was silent again before continuing. “Since I learned that you were not… interested in sex,” Hanzo floundered before recovering, “I have started letting myself be closer to you. I had not realized until then how I kept you at arm’s length. My concern now is that I might take liberties that I should not.”

Jesse rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I noticed that, too.” When he saw Hanzo’s brow furrow, he quickly amended, “I did the same thing, I mean. Lot of it was on purpose, but I didn’t realize just how much I was holding back ’til suddenly I didn’t have to anymore. The last couple of months’ve been nice.”

Nice was an understatement. In all honesty, the last couple of months had been like falling in love all over again. Jesse didn’t have to worry anymore about being affectionate and giving Hanzo the wrong impression. It was okay to put his arm around Hanzo’s waist, to throw his legs over his lap on the couch, to sneak him kisses in doorways as they passed each other. He liked to come up behind Hanzo, wait until he was sure Hanzo knew he was there, then wrap his arms around him and just stay that way for a while. It was nice to be so close. He’d been rewarded in kind: light touches to the arm for no particular reason; Hanzo offering to rub his shoulders if he’d sit down on the floor in front of him in the living room; mornings where he’d be having his coffee, and Hanzo would brush past to make his tea, but not before pausing to press a quick kiss to Jesse’s temple.

It shocked Jesse at times to think about just how distant he and Hanzo had actually been in the beginning, each fearful of taking the relationship too far or confusing the other. If things had kept going the way they had, would they even still be together? Or would the distance have become too much? It was scary to think how easily they could have sabotaged everything.

The thought made Jesse reach out to take Hanzo’s hands in his, just to anchor himself.

Hanzo looked down and squeezed his hands in response. “It has not bothered you then.”

“Not a bit. Not even the jacket stealing.”

Jesse watched as Hanzo pressed his lips together and tried to remain serious, but he was getting better at reading him: he saw how his mouth twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“So you good now?”

Hanzo drew in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth. “Yes.” He squeezed Jesse’s hands again before letting go and heading back to the booth.

Hanzo ended up getting the jacket in a large; he commented teasingly that he might let Jesse borrow it if he asked nicely. He tied the jacket around his waist since it was far too hot to wear, then headed towards the food tent to get lunch.

A booth caught Jesse’s eye, and he called to Hanzo: “You go on ahead and see if you can’t find us a table. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The booth in question was being manned by a drag queen in the most delightful outfit Jesse had ever seen. She’d gone for a Little Mermaid homage with a bright red wig and a green and purple dress that’d been cleverly sewn to mimic a shell top and scales. The fabric shimmered, as did her matching eyeshadow.

She was selling all kinds of pins, patches, and flags in different pride colors. One of those enamel pins would look nice on Hanzo’s new jacket.

Jesse bit his lip as he looked at all the pins, not quite sure which was the right one to get. He knew some of the flags, but there were plenty he’d never seen before. And the vendor had a few different designs, too: rectangles, hearts, butterflies, paw-prints, and more. The embroidered patches were larger and more creative, including several designs of cowboys and cowgirls in pride colors—nearly all of them sold out by now.

Maybe the little rainbow flag pin. Subtle yet distinctive: couldn’t go wrong with that.

“It’s the last day of the rodeo,” the vendor said, “so it’s buy one, get one half off. Go ahead and pick a couple pins if those are what you’re after, honey.”

“I don’t frankly know which one to get, if I’m bein’ honest,” Jesse admitted. “I don’t know what most of these are for.”

The vendor tapped a long nail on the table beside each of the pins. “I’ve got the classics over here. Pretty as it is, I’m not sure the lesbian flag is what you’re after,” she said with a laugh. “Also got the gay flag, bi, pan, trans, nonbinary, aromantic, asexual—”

Jesse hesitated before picking up a pin decorated in stripes of black, gray, white, and purple.

Jesse’d never actually owned something with a pride flag on it before. He had no particular reason; he’d just never gone out of his way to get anything for himself. Maybe there was something to be said about that, but Jesse didn’t care to think on it. Regardless, he hadn’t known asexuality had a flag. Hadn’t known asexuality was a thing at all until a couple months ago.

Jesse had always figured what he liked and didn’t like was just a matter of preference. Like preferring pie or cake. So sure, he wasn’t a big fan of sex. It took time and effort and a lot of cleaning up. It was awkward and embarrassing—more trouble than it was worth in the end. Other people enjoyed it, and he could manage if need be, but he didn’t look forward to it. Not wanting sex wasn’t an orientation, though.

At least that’s what Jesse thought until he suddenly and quite unexpectedly found that he wasn’t the only one.

Talking with Hanzo, Jesse realized it wasn’t just that they both happened to have the same preferences. It ran deeper than that. They shared stories of their childhoods back when they’d assumed all the sex and desire in media was exaggerated for theatrical effect. Surely no one thought about it, wanted it, craved it that much. Over time they learned they’d been wrong. Their peers began to develop crushes and talk about sex, and they insisted they’d understand eventually. So they waited, wondering when they’d finally understand.

Eventually Hanzo reached a point where he accepted that he would never want such intimacy, but he knew the needs of the clan would have to come first (he told Jesse he was thankful now that he’d left before it came to that, but for a long time the relief he’d felt had been twisted up in guilt and shame). He was always careful not to let people too close. He even admitted to Jesse that he’d been nervous to start dating him; but when Jesse had asked him so sweetly, he couldn’t stand to say no and deny himself the chance.

Meanwhile Jesse had come to the mistaken conclusion that if he dated the right person, then some kind of switch would flip, and he’d want sex. Except it never happened. It was frustrating; he felt like he was letting his partners down. It wasn’t their fault, so it had to be his, right? After enough time and heartbreak, he stopped trying—until he became so fond of Hanzo that he was willing to do just about anything if it meant getting to be with him the way Jesse had started daydreaming about.

Jesse could hardly wrap his head around how fortunate they were that their paths had crossed. Fools that they were, it seemed Lady Luck had taken a shine to them.

After a few late nights talking with Hanzo, curiosity drove Jesse to do a little online research. That was the first time he’d ever heard the term “asexuality.” It was a funny kind of word. It didn’t really roll off Jesse’s tongue in conversation, but then again Hanzo was the only person he’d talked about it with, and he was glad to finally be able to put his feelings into words after so many years. It was nice to know he wasn’t alone.

Thinking about how new all of this was, a sudden rush of uncertainty washed over Jesse. How would Hanzo feel about this gift? He was a pretty private person, after all. This would be the equivalent of wearing his heart on his sleeve, displaying a piece of his identity for everyone to see. Jesse wasn’t sure he could do that himself.

Jesse studied the pin a moment longer before setting it back down.

“You all right, sugar?” the vendor asked.

Jesse looked up, startled. He realized he was frowning.

“Yeah, just thinking. Overthinking, probably. I, uh. I’m picking something out for my boyfriend. It’s his first rodeo, and I’m lookin’ to spoil him a little.” Jesse hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and smiled, feeling heat rise in his face. He rarely found opportunities to call Hanzo his boyfriend. It made his heart race a touch.

“Well ain’t you a sweetheart? I’m sure he’ll like whatever you pick.”

That was an excellent point. It was, too wax a little cliche, the thought that counted here. Hanzo could do whatever he wanted with his gift, just so long as he knew Jesse’d been thinking of him when he got it.

Jesse picked an ace pin up off the table. It was a small, silver thing shaped like a heart, hot to the touch after sitting in the sun all morning. “I’ll buy this guy.”

“Good choice. And remember, you can pick another for half off.”

“Gonna make this hard on me, huh?” Jesse teased as he examined the table again. An idea came to him unbidden, and he acted on it before he could get cold feet as he grabbed a second ace heart to match the first. “This one.”

The vendor looked down at the pins, then gave Jesse a smile he couldn’t quite interpret. She put them in a bag and quickly rang him up.

“Pleasure doing business with you. I put my business card in there in case you wanna check out my online shop.”

“Thank you kindly.”

When Jesse took the bag, the vendor laid her hand over the top of his prosthesis to stop Jesse from pulling away. He noticed she’d painted her nails like the ocean before he looked up at her.

There was that smile again. “You were always my favorite Overwatch hero,” the vendor told him in a hushed voice. “Whole reason I got into rodeo, you know. Changed my life. Now you go have fun with your man.” She patted his hand before letting go.

Jesse felt himself flush, blood rushing in his ears at the conflicting combination of surprise, fight-or-flight instinct, and finally deep gratitude. He tipped his hat and murmured his thanks before heading off to the beer tent to find Hanzo.

After lunch, Jesse made sure Hanzo got the full experience. He challenged him to every midway game that didn’t involve shooting or throwing (to avoid drawing attention), goaded him into trying a deep-fried Twinkie, and dragged him onto the dance floor where he managed to teach Hanzo a basic line dance.

When the song ended, the band switched to a slow, romantic tune, and Hanzo pulled Jesse aside to the edge of the dance floor. He laid Jesse’s arms over his shoulders, clasped his hands at the small of Jesse’s back, and led him in a slow dance that was more swaying than anything.

“You havin’ a good time so far?” Jesse asked over the music.

“Better than expected.”

“Now what’s that mean, huh?” Jesse took advantage of his position to tickle the back of Hanzo’s neck, making him squirm and poke at Jesse’s side. “Raise your expectations a little. I’m not about to disappoint you.”

Jesse felt Hanzo’s arms squeeze him around the middle. “Perhaps I keep my expectations low so that I am always surprised and delighted by you.”

“Yeah? Well give me a challenge, and I’ll really surprise you.”

“Hm.” Hanzo drew Jesse around in a slow circle as they swayed. “Should I expect to be held to higher standards as well, then?”

“Darlin’, it don’t matter what you do: you always surprise and delight me.”

Hanzo’s eyes went wide, then he snorted, his usually passive expression cracking. Jesse grinned. Hanzo shook his head, then leaned forward to hide his face against Jesse’s chest. “That was terrible,” he said.

“You complaining?”

Hanzo pressed up against Jesse. “Never.”

They came to a stop, but Hanzo didn’t let go, and Jesse certainly wasn’t going to be the one to pull away first. Jesse shifted his arms down around Hanzo’s shoulders and pressed his cheek to Hanzo’s temple. If he could, he’d stay like this forever. He loved this. He loved Hanzo.

Jesse started to say the words he was thinking, but they caught in his throat—same as every other time he tried to say them. It was beginning to drive Jesse up the wall. He worried that maybe he’d waited too long, and he’d missed his chance; it wouldn’t mean the same thing anymore. But at the same time it felt like it was too soon. The moment never seemed right (or maybe he wasn’t quite ready).

Jesse frowned and turned to hide his face in Hanzo’s hair. This shouldn’t be so complicated. Jesse ran his hand up and down Hanzo’s back, feeling him relax against him. Almost thoughtlessly, he traced a heart on Hanzo’s back with a finger. He repeated the motion with a little more intent. Then again. And again.

A hand slid up Jesse’s back, and a finger traced a heart between his shoulder blades.

They stayed that way until the song ended.

A man wearing a white stetson and his Sunday best took the stage to briefly announce the awards ceremony would begin in ten minutes before returning the mic to the band’s singer.

Hanzo straightened up, and as he did so, Jesse leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Come on. We’ll watch the awards, and then I’ll treat you to some authentic Santa Fe barbeque.”

“I have had barbeque before.”

“Yeah, but not like they make it here.”

Hanzo looped his arm through Jesse’s as they headed for the exit. “Ah, I see. The truth comes out at last.”

“Huh?”

Hanzo graced Jesse with a teasing smirk. “All of this”—he swept his free hand in a wide arc—“was simply a ploy to reach your true goal: home-cooked food.”

Jesse laughed. “You found me out. I dragged you halfway round the world under the pretense of a date just so I could have some pulled pork.”

“In that case it had better be very good pulled pork.”

***

Jesse sat in the pilot seat of an old MV-307 Corvid as the pilot assistance program ran through its preflight check. He made sure the route home had been programmed in properly, and they wouldn’t cross into restricted airspace at any point. Wouldn’t do to cause an international incident while flying a refurbished Crisis-era military plane updated with Overwatch programming.

Everything looked good. The route was set with an estimated six hours’ flight time at the Corvid’s top cruising speed. It’d take less time in the Aurora or the Orca, but Jesse wasn’t in any rush. He settled back in his seat and watched as the ship’s indicator lights turned green one after the other across the length of the dashboard.

Something small and metal poked into Jesse’s hip when he shifted. He stuck his hand in his pocket to adjust it. He’d shoved the heart pins in there while packing that morning. He’d meant to give Hanzo his gift last night when they got to the hotel room, but they’d both been so tired that they hardly had the energy to shower and climb into bed before they passed out. It’d slipped Jesse’s mind until the next morning. When he saw the paper bag again, he considered giving Hanzo his pin right then and there, but they were getting ready to leave, so Jesse decided to wait.

He really should have just given it to Hanzo then, because now the pins were burning a hole in his pocket. He knew he was overthinking it, but he just kept wondering: they were a matching pair, and that meant if Hanzo wore his, Jesse ought to wear his own. It’d been a charming idea at the time, but now…

Jesse was nervous. Which was, quite frankly, ridiculous. Here he was, nearly 40 years old and with a boyfriend besides, and he was nervous about wearing a pride pin.

Jesse felt the shape of the enamel pins under his fingers. It wasn’t like anyone at the base would be cruel about it. But would they understand? Jesse didn’t want to deal with the confusion, the difficult questions, or the blank looks. Looks he’d gotten before when he tried to explain his “preference” to upset partners who thought his lack of interest meant he didn’t care. Those looks were like shotgun blasts to kevlar: Jesse didn’t bleed, but his chest ached like he’d been shot all the same, and the tenderness lasted for far too long afterwards.

Jesse knew his friends loved him, and he shouldn’t be afraid of their reactions. They weren’t the sort to judge. But he wasn’t sure he could take it if he was wrong.

So he just wouldn’t wear his pin. Simple. Except while Hanzo wouldn’t know his pin had a matching partner, Jesse would. Any time he saw Hanzo wearing it, he’d have to think about the other one sitting in some box or drawer in his room gathering dust because he wasn’t brave enough to do the same.

As awful as he felt about it, Jesse didn’t think he could give Hanzo his gift.

The hiss of hydraulics signaled the loading door opening. That’d be Hanzo with coffee, breakfast, and bagged lunches for the long flight.

Jesse pulled his hand from his pocket and climbed out of the cockpit to help Hanzo with the food.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” Jesse said as he took the coffee. It smelled nice. Hazelnut for sure, and maybe vanilla. One of those drinks Jesse wouldn’t make at home, but he liked to indulge in if he was at a cafe because why not? He took a sip and hummed approvingly.

Hanzo took a sip of his own drink before answering. “You have told me before, but the reminder is welcome.” He set his drink aside to open up a plastic bag, revealing breakfast burritos and cups of mixed fruit.

“That looks amazing. Let’s take it to the cockpit and get this show on the road.”

Hanzo made a disapproving noise. “We were specifically told not to eat in there.”

“Oh yeah.” Jesse chuckled awkwardly as he recalled Lena’s severe look. The Corvid wasn’t her favorite, but she was still protective of all the airships, and Jesse wasn’t the most graceful eater. “Maybe it’s best we eat back here first, then.”

“A wise decision,” Hanzo said, his tone lightly mocking. He sat down on one of the benches that ran along the walls of the Corvid. The safety harnesses suspended behind him clanked and rattled. He patted the spot beside him.

Jesse sank down on the bench beside Hanzo and gratefully accepted his breakfast. They ate quietly. When he was done with his burrito, Jesse crumpled up the wrapper, and Hanzo silently passed him his fruit cup and a plastic fork. Jesse murmured his thanks, his voice soft as if any loud sound would shatter this fragile moment. Hanzo responded by leaning his weight against Jesse’s shoulder.

Jesse finished his fruit and settled in with his coffee to wait for Hanzo. That was when he noticed Hanzo picking at his food. Hanzo might like to savor his food, but he didn’t play with it.

“You’re thinking awfully loud over there, darlin’. What’s on your mind?”

Hanzo looked up, then shook his head. “It is nothing important.”

In Jesse’s experience, when someone said that, it meant it was important, but they didn’t want to make a big deal about it. But Hanzo was a little more straightforward than that, so maybe he meant what he’d said. There was no harm in checking.

“You sure you’re good?”

“Yes,” Hanzo promised.

“All right. Hey,” Jesse said, brightening, “you’re wearin’ your jacket. I hadn’t noticed. Looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” Hanzo ran his hands over the jacket, smoothing the fabric and adjusting the sleeves he’d pushed up.

Jesse watched as Hanzo’s expression clouded. “Okay, you might not think it’s important, but something’s buggin’ you. What is it?”

Hanzo looked downright bashful, which was a hell of a thing to see.

“Truly, it is nothing. And there is nothing I can do about it now.” Jesse waited patiently for Hanzo to continue. Hanzo rolled his eyes, let his shoulders drop as if in defeat, and finally admitted, “There was a booth at the rodeo that caught my attention. They were selling pins. I thought I might indulge myself and purchase one, but we were so busy the rest of the day that I never went back.”

That was just about the last thing Jesse expected to hear. To say he was taken aback was an understatement. He leaned forward, propped his elbow on his knee, and pressed his hand over his mouth. The pins in his pocket dug into the crease of his thigh.

“Do not be concerned,” Hanzo reassured. “As I told you, it is nothing.”

“Was there one you wanted in particular?” Jesse asked through his fingers, curiosity mixing with disbelief.

Hanzo shook his head. “I did not look. I only thought…that it might be nice to have one.”

Jesse went quiet, unsure what to say. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Hanzo was trying to comfort him. He must think Jesse was kicking himself for not giving him the perfect date or something, when really, Jesse was just shocked. For all that he’d hoped Hanzo would like the gift he’d picked out, he hadn’t considered how much Hanzo might genuinely want a pride pin.

Actually, it made perfect sense.

From what Jesse had learned, Hanzo had spent the last decade fighting to live and living only to repent for his actions. Tradition and self-denial formed the structure of his everyday life; he didn’t allow himself anything outside of that.

Then Genji appeared, blade in one hand and absolution in the other.

Hanzo’s world was turned upside down in an instant. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. Hanzo would never admit it, but Jesse suspected it’d scared him. He remembered the way Hanzo struggled to describe the feeling of being adrift and directionless, and how it’d resonated with Jesse.

Genji’s words had held the promise of a new purpose, though. Conflict was brewing, and Genji intended to fight. Hanzo decided that when the time came, he would fight beside him, no matter who the enemy was. Genji deserved that much from him at least. And Hanzo had been alone for too long.

In the meantime, though, Hanzo couldn’t continue to live his life the way he had. It’d been a slow process, but over time he’d begun to let himself have little things. He told Jesse the clothes had been first, because he could justify them: changing his appearance would let him hide in plain sight so he could move around publicly and gather information. His hair had been next, because it was too recognizable. The piercings disrupted his profile, changed how old he looked, and he’d always secretly wanted them anyway.

He also slept properly, ate better, and trained harder as he waited for Genji to contact him again. He was kinder to his body than he had been in years.

Last came the things Hanzo couldn’t justify as practical—indulgences, Hanzo had called them. They’d been the hardest for him. Like the pin Hanzo wanted now, he had called them “nothing important,” and tried to gloss over the topic when it came up in conversation. Jesse’d had to wheedle the information out of him over time, curious to know more about Hanzo’s tastes. Indulgences included sweets, a bracelet that had caught Hanzo’s eye, an _omamori_ to ward off evil, the pins he wore on his quiver strap, a keychain, the occasional soda, a movie poster folded up and kept in his bag. Trinkets and temporary things, all of them. They added up, though, and in them Jesse saw the beginnings of the man he’d fallen in love with.

The long and short of it was, Hanzo had spent a decade living like a ghost trapped in the past. Only in the last year had he started to seriously ask himself who he wanted to be. Hanzo didn’t seem to have the answer to that question just yet, but he was slowly getting there, and part of the process was in how he expressed himself. This wasn’t about some bauble: this was about Hanzo defining how the world saw him.

Jesse straightened up.

Hanzo lifted his hand from Jesse’s shoulder only for Jesse to turn and catch it before Hanzo could pull away. He looked Hanzo in the eye before lifting the captured hand to kiss Hanzo’s knuckles. The skin there was marred with countless pale scars, and Jesse took his time appreciating them while Hanzo watched.

With his free hand, Jesse reached into his pocket to grab the pins. Then he turned Hanzo’s hand over and dropped them into his palm.

Hanzo stared.

“How did you—?” Hanzo cut himself off, then brought the pins close to examine them.

“See? I told you I’d surprise you.”

Hanzo let out a soft snort, and Jesse had the pleasure of watching a smile spread across his face, slow and sweet and warm like the sunrise.

“You did at that. May I ask why there are two?”

“Ah, well you see, they’re a matching pair. So you wear one, and…well…” Jesse found himself tongue-tied all of a sudden, and that nervousness from before twisted in his gut.

Comprehension dawned on Hanzo’s face, quickly followed by delight. He attached one pin to his sweat jacket, then took the back off the other and held it out.

“May I?”

Jesse hesitated, then nodded.

Hanzo reached over to pin the enamel heart to Jesse’s plaid shirt, fingers slipping into his collar to deftly attach the backing before retreating again. Then Hanzo laid his palms flat on Jesse’s chest, framing the pin between his hands. The pleased look on his face made Jesse want to melt. Here he was worrying about everyone else’s opinions when this was the only one that really mattered.

“So you like it, then—?”

Jesse was cut off by arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

***

Winston called the team together for a mission three days later. A protest was being organized in Brazil, and Lúcio Correia dos Santos had reached out to Overwatch to provide discreet protection to the protestors. Overwatch had contacted him months ago about joining, but he hadn’t wanted to leave his community defenseless. Overwatch had let him know that he could still count on them if he ever needed their help, and it seemed he’d taken it to heart. Winston sounded excited about this chance to build stronger ties with Lúcio; having him for an ally if not a team member would be a huge boon. Perhaps with time one would lead to the other.

Nearly everyone was already on the tarmac when Jesse arrived. He froze up for a moment, thoughts straying to the ace pin he’d fastened to the outer pocket of his travel bag for anyone to see. Maybe he should take it off. Before he could do anything, though, he spotted Hanzo.

Hanzo was speaking with Genji, arms crossed over his chest but his posture relaxed. He waved briefly at Jesse before returning to his conversation. Jesse watched as Genji reached over to poke at Hanzo’s chest. Hanzo lightly batted his hand away and rolled his eyes.

As Jesse got closer, he began to pick up on what they were saying.

“—careful, you almost smiled there,” Genji said.

Hanzo snorted. “You are just jealous.”

“Maybe I am. I do not have one,” Genji said, gesturing to Hanzo’s chest again.

Jesse looked and saw that Hanzo had added his new pin to his quiver strap. His stomach did a funny sort of swoop, half-elated to see Hanzo wearing his gift and half-anxious at the idea of everyone else seeing.

Genji turned his attention to Jesse. “McCree, where is my pride pin?”

“Uh—”

“Genji, you are a grown man. Act like it,” Hanzo said dryly.

“I am a grown man whose brother is dating his best friend. I will tease all I like,” Genji said as he slung an arm around Jesse’s shoulders. It was an awkward angle, but Jesse didn’t move to shake him off, and Genji didn’t let go.

Hanzo looked ready to protest, but Winston interrupted, calling him over to the edge of the launch pad. Hanzo pursed his lips, pointed a finger sternly at Genji in a wordless order to behave, then walked away.

Jesse looked down at Genji. “So we just gonna stay like this, or…?”

Genji gently squeezed Jesse’s shoulder. “Hanzo mentioned you had a matching pin.”

“Yeah?” Jesse answered, drawing the word out. “It’s on my pack.”

Genji leaned back, and Jesse felt him pull at the bag to get a better look, then his hand returned to Jesse’s shoulder. He waited tensely for Genji’s reaction.

“Good,” Genji said.

Jesse waited a tick to see if he’d say more. When he didn’t, Jesse pressed: “That’s all?”

Genji looked up. Then he turned his head pointedly in Hanzo’s direction. Hanzo appeared to be going over a map with Winston. “My brother is not as brave as he acts,” Genji said quietly. “I am proud of how far he has come; still, the pin was a surprise. I remember when we were young, Hanzo made certain I knew that I could trust him with anything. I tried to do the same for him, but it was much harder to convince him to speak his mind. As we grew older, I watched him hide more and more of himself away—even from me.

“I never would have expected Hanzo to open up the way he has. I only wanted to be sure he was not doing this by himself.”

Jesse swallowed down the lump that’d formed in his throat. He hadn’t looked at it quite like that. “You don’t need to worry: I got his back.”

“I know you do. I can see that. And just so you know, I am proud of you, too.”

Jesse could hear the smile in Genji’s voice even if he couldn’t see his face behind his visor. Jesse looked away, feeling embarrassed. “Since when did you turn into such a sap?”

“Me? I am not the one who looks like he’s about to cry,” Genji teased.

“Am not.” Jesse shoved his hand in Genji’s face to push him off, getting a laugh from his friend. Genji pulled away, then slipped around Jesse’s arm and darted a hand out to pat his cheek. Jesse tried to grab him, but he’d dodged out of range again in an instant.

“Too slow,” Genji crowed.

“Agents,” Athena announced over the base speakers, “please clear the launch pad.” The doors of the main hangar slid open. The Orca eased out with a rumble, the air whipped into a frenzy by its thrusters. Jesse grabbed his hat and held it tight to his head to keep it from escaping.

“See you on board,” Genji said, then turned and ran off to where he’d set his gear aside.

“Agent McCree?” Athena said.

Jesse lifted his head in the direction of the nearest speaker. “Yeah?”

“That includes you.”

“Right, o’ course.” He tipped his hat in the general direction of the speaker and headed towards Hanzo, who was standing behind the yellow safety line.

Jesse sidled up to Hanzo and reached over to loosely wrap his arm around his waist.

“What were you and Genji talking about?” Hanzo asked as they watched the Orca settle on the launch pad.

“Oh, you know, the usual. He’s just makin’ sure I treat you right.”

Hanzo snorted and turned his head so Jesse would see his wry expression. “And if you fail?"

“He didn’t say, but I assume it’s somethin’ along the lines of ‘They’ll never find your body.’”

“A reasonable guess,” Hanzo agreed. The Orca’s doors slid open. Hanzo headed for the dropship. “Although,” Hanzo added over his shoulder, as if it were an afterthought, “if you did ‘treat me wrong,’ it is not Genji you would need to worry about.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he huffed out a laugh and hurried to catch up.

“Y’know, I’d take that threat a little more seriously if it weren’t for two things,” Jesse said over the noise of the Orca’s idling thrusters.

“Oh?” Hanzo climbed through the hatch, then turned to face Jesse. “And what are they?”

“One, you won’t get rid of me cuz you’d miss me too much. And two,”—Jesse pulled himself up into the Orca and into Hanzo’s personal space—“we both know that I—”

_Say it. Just say it!_

“—I care about ya too much to ever hurt you.”

_Coward._

Jesse watched something pass over Hanzo’s face. It wasn’t disappointment—more like acceptance, which was somehow worse. It was followed up by a hint of a smile that only served to make Jesse feel even more rotten. He struggled to think of something to say that could fix this.

The light at Jesse’s back was blocked out as Reinhardt came up behind him. “Come now, friends, let’s not keep our pilot waiting,” he said.

Hanzo silently stepped aside to let Jesse and Reinhardt on board. He found a seat, then gestured with his head for Jesse to join him.

Jesse sank into the seat beside Hanzo with his travel bag in his lap. The ace heart pinned to the front gleamed, shiny and new. Jesse laid his hand over the top of it. He could feel Hanzo looking at him, but he still hadn’t figured out what to say to him, so he kept staring down at his bag.

Without a word, Hanzo reached over and took hold of Jesse’s wrist. Jesse watched in confusion as Hanzo pulled his hand away and coaxed it down into his lap. Then he used a finger to draw a heart on the back of Jesse’s hand.

That small gesture said everything Jesse couldn’t.

Jesse glanced over. Hanzo was watching him, his expression warm. Those keen eyes of his had a knack for either making Jesse feel ten feet tall or disarming him completely. Somehow, in that moment, they did both. Hanzo’s hand laid over his and squeezed.

Jesse ached to tell Hanzo how he felt, but he was sure if he tried, the words would lodge in his throat and choke him. Instead he reached over to trace a heart on the back of Hanzo’s hand in turn.

_I love you, too._

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank everyone who bookmarked and commented on _Something a Little Sweeter_. It's a little scary to write something that forces you to draw on your own feelings, fears, and desires; and then to put that out into the world. The world isn't always kind. The response I got, however, was indescribably positive and heartfelt. Readers related. They were glad to have another story that resonated with them. What was going to be a one-off is now a series only because of the incredible support you all have shown me; this continuation is my way of expressing my deep gratitude.
> 
> And Happy Valentine's Day, everyone


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